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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049868">horny units</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/photomaton/pseuds/photomaton'>photomaton</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bottom Lee Taeyong, Casual Sex, Clubbing, Drinking, I don't know what's going on either, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Smoking, Top Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, dont take it seriously its a draft, johnny is a hetero getting married, lucas is a bit of a slut, lucas loves seducing people</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:47:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/photomaton/pseuds/photomaton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They stare at each other until the bartender lifts his eyebrow. He has a small frame and some exceptionally pretty face, full lips, sharp jaw. Or maybe everything is only pretty under this pink neon light that says 'Cocktails', but Yukhei has enough time to decide that he’d love to take the stranger home tonight.</p><p>/so club homeboy Yukhei meets a hot new bartender/</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Taeyong/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>horny units</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Like always, like every single story of Yukhei’s phenomenal journey of life so far, this story starts at a nightclub as well.</p><p>He doesn't necessary have a goal tonight, not in a sense that he would like to smash a blonde, a red head, a brunette. Maybe have a little jerking off session in the smoking area, driven by the adrenaline of being caught red-handed by the security guard with his jeans still hardly hugging his hips. No, tonight Yukhei is going impromptu.</p><p>He walks through the smoke and awful odours of sweat until he reaches the bar and that chick with a choker already holds out a drink for him. She knows his face and he knows hers, but no-named acquaintance is how she stays. A person who supports his unhealthy lifestyle. Maybe says 'you alright?' from time to time.</p><p>He's usually with a lovely looking bird by now, by the time she shakes the mixer in her hands and pours sweet liquids into cheap plastic glasses, but tonight, maybe, Yukhei wants to be alone. In this nightclub full of strangers. Like a stranger in a strange land. Just that he is not, obviously. If he turned right, he'd see the guy with overly damaged from bleaching hair that happily sucked his dick some months back. Now he would have his arms all over some other hunk, grinding on him and nibbling his ear way too eagerly until it becomes off-putting, Yukhei remembers that from a personal experience. If he turned left, he'd find a pouty looking twink with tight jeans and a loose shirt. He is pouty because everyone comes and asks him if he's alright, if he'd like a drink, if he wants to get out of this shithole. Again, personal experience.</p><p>But no, there is no bird and there is only Yukhei, accepting the drink as the chick gives him a little once-over. Yeah, he knows the drill. He is alone tonight and she is interested, just like everyone always is. He is the type of a guy that is everyone's type, not to boast or anything.</p><p>His fingers lightly brush hers when he takes the glass and turns back, ready to face the chaos of the dancefloor. Yukhei would move, he really would, but someone is suddenly holding him by his shirt at the back. His drink spills and the liquid dribbles down his hand.</p><p>And this is where the plot thickens.</p><p>“What the hell are you doing?” His voice gets suffocated by the bass when he turns around.</p><p>And as he is standing there cussing, he comes face to face with someone unseen behind the bar. The choker chick shrugs and smiles to some other drunk arse, evacuating the scene, as Yukhei is left with this blond bartender. The guy lets go of his shirt and his lips purse in distaste. </p><p>“What the hell am I doing? Pay for the drink or get out.” The guy says and Yukhei scoffs.</p><p>He is holding a lime in his other hand, as if it was really necessary to drop his cocktail mixing activity and make drama out of an unpaid drink. Yukhei would have paid for it, eventually. Like the time he shagged someone in the toilet stall he spilled his drink on as an apology. They had a good fuck and a ruined designer T-shirt was forgotten. Pretty cost efficient, if he said so himself.</p><p>They stare at each other until the bartender lifts his eyebrow. He has a small frame and some exceptionally pretty face, full lips, sharp jaw. Or maybe everything is only pretty under this pink neon light that says 'Cocktails', but Yukhei has enough time to decide that he’d love to take the stranger home tonight. Or they could do it in some alley, it's all and the same.</p><p>The bartender holds out his free hand and says “six twenty.”</p><p>Yukhei smirks. He puts down the glass back on the counter, shakes his wet hand, puts a tip of his sticky thumb in his mouth to lick it and says “sorry, I meant to pay,” he takes out his wallet, adding “here. That's for your drink too, love.”</p><p>But the bartender does not look so impressed. If anything, his bottom lip slightly sticks out, disappointed kind of mien on his face. He then puts down his lime and places both of his palms on the bar, leaning in.</p><p>“I don't drink at work. Six twenty,” he repeats again then adds 'love'. Feisty.</p><p>Now the cocktail light is blue neon, and the guy looks even better. Especially with the way he is leaning into Yukhei, with loose shirt that is missing some top buttons on purpose, giving him his full attention, queue behind them disregarded. Yukhei glances down to the skinny, bony fingers and the amount of veins that cover the hands in front. Yes, he totally likes what he is seeing.</p><p>Yukhei does not shy away from eye contact when he finally gives him exact amount and watches as the man works his way around the bar. How he tucks a strand of strawberry hair behind his ear, how he types in his damn six twenty into the till, how he lifts his head and cocks his dark eyebrow when Yukhei misses that beat of silence that is still regarded as cool and makes it into something over saturated. So he clears his throat and says:</p><p>“You're new?”</p><p>“You want another drink or what?” The guy bounces back nonchalantly though, already motioning with his two bony fingers for someone behind Yukhei to come forward with their order. That someone elbows Yukhei and his six twenty worth drink spills out of the cheap glass some more, splattering on the counter of the bar. He gives his farewell once-over to the bartender who doesn’t even spare him a look and the neon cocktail light dramatically flickers like it’s the end of the scene as Yukhei stands facing the dancefloor once more, thumb in his mouth.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It might be worth mentioning that usually Yukhei is less of a pompous dick, or at least that would have been applicable to him about fifteen hours ago. That is before his best mate decided to get married and run to his office with a shit-eating grin and an engagement ring on his finger, announcing the arrangement with a ta-dah, like it’s a good thing. Leaving Yukhei in the clubbing world all alone, suddenly competitive counts over how many birds they have nailed, flirts, stories about twinks with shocking kinks and big dicks becoming much less fun.</p><p>Maybe hence his aimless wandering around the club today, from one John Doe to another, his hands picking up half empty glasses and finishing them up in a blind and drunk stupor, grabbing dancing people’s waists and shoving his tongue into any willing mouth. There is an element of him foggily glancing at the bar where his conquest in the form of an assertive looking blond stands mixing cocktails too, if he can navigate himself enough to turn to the right direction, long legs like some dead weight dragging his body north, south, west and east. As the bass tune changes, the bartender leans over the bar, turns his head so some dude can shout his order into his ear. Yukhei notices a concentrated look, rather handsome, and the bartender even pops a smile for which he was too frigid before. Well that pisses Yukhei off, not massively, no, he is too drunk for that now and he can’t comprehend well enough if what he’s seeing is a reality or some hallucination, him actually sitting on the bathroom floor and vomiting his guts out.</p><p>The world goes black for just a second, Yukhei feeling stupefied and levitating somewhere in the background in this cacophony of the nightclub. Whether he crashes against the tiles of the bathroom or on the dancefloor in the middle of his useless disoriented grinding doesn’t really matter when he finally opens his eyes, cold air hitting his bruised face. First thing he sees is his legs, damn the jeans are dirty, alcohol stains, cum stains - it’s all looking the same. He blinks once, twice until he fathoms himself being in a sitting position on a cold ground, night dark and starry, slow bass coming through the front doors of the nightclub still. Yukhei is positioned just outside the club, some dodgy wall full of graffiti art and drawings of balls where his sore back is leaning.</p><p>“Alright there, bud?” Raspy voice asks and Yukhei tries his best to follow the source, eyes seeing ten security guards with shaved heads stare at him. He’s sure there is only one of them. Maybe two. He only manages a nod and tries to stand up, his hands dramatically failing to support his body weight. He takes a moment to stare at his hands, appreciating how big they are from a smaller man’s perspective. Fuck, he’s drunk.</p><p>“We need to get him home.” Yukhei hears another voice but he can’t see much. He tries to get up, mumbling something like ‘I’m fine. I’m okay. Where is my phone?’ but nothing happens. Maybe he’ll just stay here tonight. “Oi, you have someone to call?”</p><p>That makes Yukhei chuckle, though any sarcastic remarks he’d usually have don’t really form to leave his dry lips.</p><p>“You can go,” he hears that other voice say to the ten faces of the security guard “some chicks were doing methamphetamine in the bathroom, they need to leave. I’ll deal with this one.” Yukhei feels ten security guards and whoever else is speaking look at him so he closes his eyes, street lamps blinding and hammering his brain to a splatter.</p><p>He probably passes out again because now there is a glass of water being shoved in his face and a hand lightly slapping his left cheek.</p><p>“Ouch,” he grunts and the slapping stops.</p><p>“Drink,” the same voice commands and Yukhei opens his mouth to accept the glass. “Seriously?” he hears man say before the water starts dribbling slowly, down his throat, finally wetting his dry tongue. “Better?” Another question when Yukhei shuts his lips in refusal for anymore. He feels like retching a little, the classy man he is; he coughs instead and lifts his head to the nursing him to vitality stranger, first noticing light hair, then its length, then as his eyes return their focus, Yukhei notices dark eyebrows and one of those model-like jaws. Sharp, bone moulded into a perfect line.</p><p>“Oh shit,” he says, staring at the bartender. The latter doesn’t look amused, though hostility from before is gone. Sort of. Yukhei scrubs his face.</p><p>The bartender hums, still crouching next to splayed on the ground and drunk as a sack Yukhei “here’s your phone” he hands it over, adding “have anyone to call?” Again, what a funny question, this idea of having someone to call and collect you drunk and cum stained. So Yukhei shakes his head a no.</p><p>“Okay, where do you live? I’m calling a taxi.”</p><p>“I don’t remember.”</p><p>A pause. He hears a sigh and even in a drunk mess Yukhei appreciatively stares at the little angry bartender, stares as he lightly flaps around standing up, glancing at the area and seemingly looking for help. He can’t contain his amused giggle; he enjoys the look the bartender shoots at that, the same pissed off face that he found so attractive under the neon light before. A buzz is in his head again and his eyelashes flutter when he shuts his eyes.</p><p>“Yukhei?” Now he’s shaken by his shoulders so he opens his eyes like an annoyed child being woken up to eat his porridge and get ready to school in the morning. He whines. “If you don’t stand up I’m calling the police and you’re sleeping in a cell. Deal?”</p><p>“You know my name?”</p><p>“Everyone knows your name. Come on,” the bartender takes Yukhei’s arm and pulls at it “can you stand up?”</p><p>So they somehow manage to change Yukhei’s position to a standing, or more like leaning against a wall one. He feels his back pocket for his home keys and does a little trial step to see if he can walk, the bartender watching him in silence. It’s only when his trial steps turn into bigger strolls and the background noise which is music becomes distant that he hears feet hitting the concrete behind him, bartender appearing by his side. “You know where you’re going?”</p><p>“Sure,” Yukhei glances at him and his pretty strawberry hair, eyes narrowed in tries to stop the world from spinning.</p><p>“Do you need a ride? I have someone coming shortly.”</p><p>Yukhei stops and turns to the man. He can feel his body sway side to side and he can’t be certain if the bartender is on his right or left or if he’s still there. “Do <em>you </em>need a ride? I’ll give you one.”</p><p>Somehow that makes the blond man shake his head with a light smile. Well that’s a first one. “You should behave yourself,” he says and they both walk side by side in silence for a bit. Yukhei is silent because he can feel himself retching; he doesn’t have any smart remarks to say either. “You sure you are okay?” The bartender finally asks after a while, a car beeps couple of times in the background and the man turns his head with a wave. “Listen, I can walk you home.”</p><p>But Yukhei only dismissively motions. “It’s fine. I live there,” and he points to the apartment complex, a street or two away. Another reason why he’s such a homeboy at this clubbing establishment; he can bring his fucks home fast enough and never need taxis. Though for some weird reason he doesn’t really feel like dragging the bartender with him tonight. Maybe he’s turning into a gentleman, fuck knows.</p><p>“Okay. Here,” the bartender grabs Yukhei’s arm then and pushes his shirt’s sleeve up. His fingers curl around his wrist when another hand fishes out a black marker ‘that’s if anything happens. Don’t you dare call me,” one by one black numbers appear on his arm. A phone number. “Get home and sleep it off, man,” the bartender adds and turns to go, his shirt flailing in the wind and embracing his small frame as he approaches a car that’s flashing yellow lights.</p><p>“I can send you nudes though, right?” He feels his drunk tongue slur his speech.</p><p>“Behave yourself,” he hears a voice shout back at him and Yukhei’s heavy body starts moving again. Play button pressed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Yukhei surprises himself and his stupid-faced reflection in the mirror when on Monday morning he stands looking rather presentable, his hands going through his dark brown hair before he fixes white sleeves of the shirt under his expensive suit jacket. The surprised element is there merely for the fact that he spent the whole day yesterday in his bed, cooking bowl for his vomit on the floor, two large plastic bottles of water on his nightstand and bed dirty from the grease of his post-intoxication state takeway food order. Or orders. He still remembers the same delivery driver’s face when he opened the door and grabbed his cheesy fries for the second time, his state unchanged: stained grey t-shirt, baggy joggers that were so loosely stretched his arse crack sometimes showed and a face of an absolute scum of the earth.</p><p>Worst thing of it all, he is almost certain he had some sort of interaction with the hot new bartender that night and some bald guy too. For which he obviously has no memory of except a pretty face extremely close to his, him too drunk to inspect all the features better. And maybe a phone number he found smudged on his arm leaving black all over his light bed covers in the morning may have or may have not been a part of it. The only thing he knows is that no banging concluded that night at all. Yukhei is almost proud of his ability to tell if his dick had some action going on or not. Call it his sixth sense or something.</p><p>He still feels like he has this scent around of evaporating alcohol coming off of him when he enters the lobby of addictions centre, fingers lazily holding the strap of his leather briefcase. He casually brings his wrist to the side of his cologned neck and then quickly brushes it against his nose when he reaches security. Smelling good is just one of those things Yukhei takes extra care of. Addicted chicks love it.</p><p>He deposits his belongings into a tray and exchanges a well-rehearsed ‘you alright?’ and ‘busy morning?’ with the security guard but, of course, this has to be one of those days when the archway detector beeps and he’s asked to show his belt. Then remove his shoes. Then a handheld scanner is going through his body up and down. Usual routine of excessive security measures ever since some crackhead managed to smuggle a knife in and almost stabbed an on-call interpreter during a court ordered admission.</p><p>Anyway. Not to be clichéd, but Mondays honestly suck for Yukhei. Being the head of tobacco cessation and motivational therapy division on a Monday morning mostly consists of piles of new patient files being thrown at his face, signature and stamp requests, occasional unexpected meeting that’s promised to be just under an hour long but is sure to stretch until he misses his lunch and his coffee is left cold and neglected in the break room. Add to that educational class for teens forcefully brought by their school to listen to a lecture on how bad smoking is. No way in hell those grumpy faces are taking Yukhei serious when he tells them that “smoking is bad” and asks them to look at a model of black lungs he’s brought in from anatomical museum — his own pack of cigarettes securely stashed in his jacket.</p><p>So as he finally stands having a breather, one hand holding the railing of the little smoking area that faces a private pompous square of planted rose bushes and sakuras in the city centre, Yukhei can’t control the little silent grunt when he sees Johnny approaching. The bubbly demeanour the man walks with doesn’t help either and Yukhei has a feeling that a sappy story is due to come shortly.</p><p>Johnny waves a hello and faces the pompous garden too, lighting up a cigarette, like a good employee of addiction centre he is. “You seem very happy seeing me,” he playfully bumps Yukhei’s shoulder, “still pissed?”</p><p>“What makes you think I was?”</p><p>“The whole monologue of how you can’t trust anybody in this world and you walking out on me and stealing my morning croissant sort of sent a clear message?”</p><p>“Yeah well. Not pissed per se. Just didn’t know you were this serious with that bird-”</p><p>“Soojin,” Johnny exhales a white cloud through his nose.</p><p>“Yeah. That. When did I miss a memo of this happening?”</p><p>“I told you I was seeing someone. Literally every time we met,” Johnny shakes his head disapprovingly, though there’s a certain level of amusement that soon changes his expression. “But anyways. We met at that charity event you didn’t bother showing up at, what, half a year ago now? And it was electric,” Johnny almost jumps at that and Yukhei wants to throw himself over the railing instead. “Which I told you about also when you were downing a tray of B-52s the mint haired dude bought you. Can you imagine that in a few months I’m going to be married? How crazy is that?”</p><p>“Yeah. Very crazy.” Yukhei didn’t mean to be explicitly dramatic. He was take-it-or-leave-it kind of guy, but having this notorious bachelor whom he called his best friend get married simply rubbed him off the wrong way. “So after all this time. You’re going for a domesticated monogamous family guy type of thing?”</p><p>Johnny shrugs at Yukhei’s attempted insult. “Well. Can’t be certain how monogamous I nor she can be, but it’s just... nice to be needed, you know?” He looks ahead and Yukhei can’t pretend he doesn’t notice the fondness in Johnny’s eyes. Another rush of abandonment, no matter how baseless, goes through his body. “Like, whatever happens, I have a shoulder to lean on.”</p><p>When Yukhei doesn’t respond, thinking over the said words in tries to find reason to his irritation, Johnny complies with the silence; and for a while both of them stare at the city, sound of their burning cigarettes filling the space. Not awkward. Just pondering.</p><p>“I’ll just say this and I want you to keep an open mind,” Johnny finally straightens his back and regards his friend, his fingers — now one of them ringed with probably some engraved silly writing of ‘I’m yours’ or ‘J&amp;S’ — put out the cigarette in an ashtray. “But seriously, you should try it sometime.”</p><p>Yukhei pops a mint in his mouth, offering one to Johnny. “Try what?”</p><p>“Dating,” he fumbles with his words when he sees his friend’s mortified face. Johnny’s lips smack when he twirls the mint with his tongue. “Okay no dating, jesus. Seeing someone? You know. Caring beyond just your conquer.”</p><p>“You’ve become quite a jokester lately,” Yukhei opens the glass door and pops couple of more mints before his next lecture on opium. “I’ll keep the thought.”</p><p>“Can you also keep the thought to not shag anyone at the wedding, please?” Yukhei shuts the door before Johnny can get his answer. Which under current circumstances would be a no. But ask him some other time.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>So with the same thought in mind, Yukhei ends up gripping the door of a cubicle when he slides in and out of someone’s mouth that night.</p><p>“Can I shoot?” Words quick and slurred, swallowed by the loud music, his large palms set on the kneeling man’s head the moment he receives a nod. Wet lips and tear streaked cheeks is what does it for him, and he slams against the throat with little to no delicacy before his body reaches its peak. His hand lands to grip at the curly black hair, pulling at it, making the man stand up. Yukhei realises he’s too late to return the favour when he manoeuvres his hand to the stranger’s groin, so he goes for a wet kiss instead, eyebrows furrowed when he tastes himself on the tip of his tongue. That was fun. Let’s do this again. Sure I’ll call.</p><p>Crumbled phone number lands in the overfilled bin just seconds after the stranger makes his way to the exit. Yukhei, his palms against the sink’s marble top that doesn’t go with the overall grimy and black interior of the place, he glances at himself in the mirror, face somewhat a pretence of sobriety. There’s something sour about it too and Yukhei can’t pinpoint what, though his constant rejections tonight might be it. Maybe some other time, baby. I have a boyfriend. Yada yada. People seem to be aware just how unfun he is tonight. </p><p>His ringed index finger taps on the surface and he bends down, throat dry and parched. When he turns the faucet, water is white instead of clear, but Yukhei’s lips still part, his inconveniently for that moment tall body making it hard to get enough. To stop being so damn thirsty.</p><p>The door creaks open once more just as Yukhei turns off the tap and the back of his hand presses against his lips. “Just icing on a cake of my day,” he hears a voice and a black glass collecting basket lands next to where he’s gripping the marble. He’s about to leave the glass collector be and find himself another set of willing eyes to share warmth with, maybe end the game in his apartment, but when he dismissively glances to his right, all he can mutter is another stupid “oh shit,” and a cleared throat later - “hi.”</p><p>The hot new bartender stares at him through the mirror, same cocky attitude and cheekbones worth breaking your heart. “Well, you’re in better form tonight.” Then, his eyes skim through Yukhei’s body and the bartender motions an empty bottle he’s just picked up from the ground towards Yukhei’s open fly, “hope I didn’t interrupt.”</p><p>At first, Yukhei can’t catch the meaning of the remark, but then he thinks of the cold ground outside several nights ago and a blurred face asking if he’s okay. “Oh no, you actually missed the party,” he cracks a joke only he finds funny. His fingers fumble with the situation in his groin; he tucks the white t-shirt into dark blue jeans and fixes his undone belt, and as he lifts his eyes back to the blondie, he asks: “And was I a proper arse that night? Thanks for the help by the way,” he gnaws on his bottom lip when the blondie keeps quiet, instead, the guy’s busy collecting all the glasses from around the bathroom. Walking around in a rush, chucking half-way finished drinks into the sink. A few strands of his strawberry blond hair fall over his eyes as he stops to look at Yukhei through the mirror.</p><p>“You were just hammered, don’t worry about it.” Maybe it’s his lightly intoxicated and post-orgasmic state, but Yukhei is almost sure he sees a small tug of lips. “Though, I appreciate you refraining from sending me a dick pic.”</p><p>“I can’t speak for my drunk self, but that must have been a challenge.”</p><p>And at that, the bartender laughs, his perfectly pearly white teeth showing. Yukhei’s sudden ego boost gets activated. “Sure it was,” he tips his sharp chin towards the glass in the corner of the sink, “can you pass me that?”</p><p>Yukhei takes the glass, screwdriver with additional shots of vodka he’s ordered to well... get screwed. Looking at the bartender, he downs the cocktail in one go and drops the glass into the bag. The mood gets comfortable somehow. “Why are you collecting glasses? Don’t you get college kids for that?”</p><p>Pretty blondie kicks one cubicle open, his even prettier back view to Yukhei’s taste. That’s right. He has an exact millisecond to pretend he wasn’t just ogling the guy’s arse when he turns around, no glasses found. “Yeah. The idiot apparently got his wallet stolen on the way here. Sure. Good that his newest model phone is safe and sound in his hand whilst his other must be rolling a blunt,” he grimaces and Yukhei sends him a snort. “But thanks for calling me old?”</p><p>Yukhei shakes his head and bumps his shoulder against a wall just next to the machine where you can buy condoms and other goodies. Everything you need. He regrets the motion. His eyes shut as he tries to swat away the dizzy feeling. “Correction: mature,” he still manages to wink and the bartender does what Yukhei thought was never possible - he sends him a lopsided grin. Directed at him.</p><p>“I’ll see you around,” and the pretty face leaves the smelly bathroom where Yukhei just came all over someone else’s.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>So next time he sees the bird he still doesn’t know the name of, it’s a week or so later and he’s pressed against a wall just outside the club.</p><p>It’s five am with city still asleep in a foggy gloom and it’s the time when all the nightclub life superstars loiter around outside waiting for their cabs or - you’d be surprised - parents to pick them up. This is the time when drunk people can converse about everything and anything, confident and making promises to be friends forever with whoever is intoxicated enough to listen to their ridiculous stories.</p><p>Yukhei’s back is to the wall, right foot against it. He’s having a cheeky smoke and sends his well-performed cheeky smirks towards lonely individuals in hopes to still get himself a partner for tonight. Well, realistically this morning. His gaze is first rather bored and unimpressed when he turns his head to his right, but his eyes quickly sparkle with interest as the bartender keenly listens to whatever is being whispered into his ear full of dangly earrings. Yukhei watches bartender cock his head to a side looking scandalously flirtatious, his head flat against the wall, and there’s hardly any space between him and what’s-his-face. There’s a moment when their eyes meet and Yukhei lifts his palm in a distant wave of hello. The bartender smiles and goes for the open kiss the other is offering. Cheeky.</p><p>A car beeps nearby and Yukhei senses a deja-vu, just this time the bartender doesn’t disappear behind the headlights but stays exactly where he was a minute ago, after his brief exchange with the horny arsehole, hi, Wong Yukhei, a fan, and a little shake of his head. The guy pecks him on the cheek and the blondie’s body relaxes, his casual pose and the way he shuffles in his pockets for something with a smile playing on his lips - inviting. Yukhei takes it. He takes the invitation and walks towards the shorter man, refusing to acknowledge his stomach’s nervous flip.</p><p>“So…” Yukhei rests his back next to the bartender, now both of them standing shoulder to shoulder and facing the drunk mosh pit.</p><p>“So,” the guy repeats and gives Yukhei a sidelong glance. The way he has to lift his eyes to reach Yukhei’s level, chin tilting with the motion and his collarbone protruding. Appreciated appreciated appreciated. He’s wearing a see-through t-shirt in the cold night of autumn and tight leather trousers, all not missed by Yukhei.</p><p>And before he can think anything other than <em>fuck it</em>, he’s making a move: “Was that your boyfriend?”</p><p>That must be a funny thought because the bartender chuckles. “Nope,” he adds, correcting himself, “no thanks.”</p><p>Yukhei bites the insides of his cheeks feeling how his bright silly smile might pop. They might get along. Ever since their little talk in a bathroom, whenever they caught a glance of each other, be it the bartender finishing his shift or Yukhei lost in a crowd drunk but turned to the bar, it stopped being hostile. Instead, the bartender would nod his head, maybe quirk a corner of his lip up. “Cool,” now Yukhei glances at the lighter the bird is flicking idly. “Want one?” he takes out a pack of cigarettes and waves it in front of the pretty face.</p><p>“What a shit brand,” the grimace other makes is almost disgusted but he still takes one. “I thought someone like you would be into something more expensive.”</p><p>There’s a little pause between their smoking and stares going back and forth from each other and to people around. “Don’t you think it’s a little unfair you know more about me than I know about you?”</p><p>But his question is ignored and the long awaited name reveal gets postponed, there’s a different question instead: “Are you sticking it on me?”</p><p>Now Yukhei disregards the crowd and turns his body towards the bartender, shoulder brushing cold concrete wall. The cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth and he rests one hand just above the blond hair when, still lazily slumped, the guy looks up. “What makes you think so?”</p><p>“Please. Fuckboy hours are so open for business right now,” the walking-by chick with a choker makes him lose his focus and the guy sends her a friendly smile and a “see you later”. Her steps slow down when she notices Yukhei and she eyeballs both of them, almost stepping into a large puddle with her white trainers. The bartender seems to be as amused as ever, and Yukhei starts to really wonder if he’s not under some influence that’s made him this loose, because how can this be the same prick who almost ruined his favourite shirt. But when he stares at him, the bartender’s body is relaxed, pupils normal and cheeks reddened from the cold. Yukhei’s chest puffs out, and he feels like he’s mastered some sort of method to make this grumpy looking male smile. “But okay. Go for it.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Hit on me,” his wide brown eyes twinkle with a challenge. “Show me what you got.”</p><p>And Yukhei does without a second thought. For a step one, he goes for physical contact, sliding his hand further down the wall until his body gets dangerously close and he makes a step forward, his chest against the man’s side. He tugs some hair behind the ear, but his fingers only so briefly ghost over a hollow cheek in a tease. Step two is usually cheap banter that often wins him favours for how silly or endearingly stupid it is. I can give it to you good. I’ve been watching you all night. Where’s your ride? Because I think it’s in my pants. And shit like that. Yukhei swears it’s only creepy when one makes it to be. But that’s the thing, Yukhei is against a sober opponent, and that makes the guy arch one eyebrow and look to a side, embarrassed for the both of them. So Yukhei moves to step three what he calls it - silent flirting aka puppy look. Head tilted down, a smile that is halfway a smirk, yet you can see his pearly teeth. Eyes dark and suggestive as his large frame casts a shadow on the bartender’s. Sure, he would look like a fucking idiot if he pulled such looks in a broad daylight, but in the nightclub kind of world, this demeanour is priceless. Works every time.</p><p>“Damn.”</p><p>Yukhei is still standing scandalously close and he relishes in the way the bartender’s eyes are inspecting his face, flicking from place to place and lingering on others. “What,” his voice, of course, is an octave lower too. He knows what it does. “Too much?”</p><p>There’s a certain tension in the way the bird is staring at him, eyes so focused and lips moulded in a devastating perfection. “No, I see it now.”</p><p>Yukhei smirks. “What?”</p><p>The sigh is hardly credible and brown eyes are once again on Yukhei’s lips. “I mean you are like a fucking siren of fuck boys. I see now why everyone is up your arse every night.” Now there’s very little, if any, space between them and Yukhei positions himself in front of the man, just like that other John Doe did a while back. He rests his palms on each side of the man’s head but keeps his body a few inches away.</p><p>“Thanks?” He smiles, then adds, “since I complied with your request and worked so hard to get a lousy ‘damn’, can I finally get your name?”</p><p>“It’s Taeyong.”</p><p>“Okay, <em>Taeyong</em>,” Yukhei enjoys how the name rolls off his tongue and again, his voice is only a low whisper. “I’m sure you know what I want to ask next.”</p><p>“I sure do.”</p><p>“And what would your answer be?”</p><p>Taeyong shrugs, but Yukhei doesn’t miss on the way his Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow. “Your place or mine?”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>if you somehow managed to read till the end - i'm thankful and embarrassed.</p><p>this is so all over the place, but treat it as a draft, because that's exactly what it is. I couldn't figure out any proper development so this is what happened</p><p>p.s. next part, i wanted to add here, but ended up too confused so part 2 to follow with some better pacing? maybe? one day?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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